


The Jogger

by dederants



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: British English, Gen, Original Character - Freeform, the jogger, tom hiddleston - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dederants/pseuds/dederants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You’re in a park near your flat, relaxing on the grass. Sun beams warm your skin and closed eyelids. </p><p>Feet nearby pound pavement, a jogger nearby. Their footsteps slow, transitioning from concrete to grass. You sense they're close; the warmth on your face ceases, a cool breeze brushing your skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Jogger

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is just that: a work of fiction. The author is not associated with Tom Hiddleston personally nor socially, though that would be quite nice.

You’re in a park near your flat, relaxing on the grass. Sun beams warm your skin and closed eyelids. 

Feet nearby pound pavement, a jogger nearby. Their footsteps slow, transitioning from concrete to grass. You sense they're close; the warmth on your face ceases, a cool breeze brushing your skin.

You open your eyes, hidden behind shaded lenses. [A figure stands over you, their outline expanding as if panting.](https://31.media.tumblr.com/09f269b8e0e0cbd62178211707eddcea/tumblr_n07macvu881r0yrfno2_r1_500.gif)

You remove your sunglasses to find a handsome man bore his vibrantly blue yet dark eyes into you.

"I’ve found you," he says, catching his breath.

You’re speechless. You’ve never met this man before, yet he looks vaguely familiar.

"Have we met before?" you ask innocently. 

"We have now," the man replies, his voice singing a deeply seductive yet sadistic harmony. "Come with me somewhere."

"No, I’m fine here. Thanks." You put your spectacles on and stare up at the sky, taking small glances at the figure standing over you.

Your mind and heart race; you’re mentally begging him to snatch the sunglasses off your face and kiss you passionately. You want to run your fingers through his dark blonde curls. You crave to hear that voice whisper poetry and Shakespeare into your ear, the sensation sending signals to your nether. 

But…

The figure huffs, turns and walks away, breaking into a sprint as the soles of his trainers hit the pavement once more. You wonder how such possibility could slip through your fingers, then think better of it. Neither knew of each other, and you conclude you may have dodged a bullet. An extremely handsome bullet…

You have the walk home to fantasize of what could have been, and pack it away once you’ve reached the safety of your flat. That night, and every night thereafter, however, the jogger’s beautiful face appears in your dreams, his eyes penetrating your soul.

This is your secret, not to be shared with anyone…


End file.
